Chapter 1

England was drinking in a bar. He was way past drunk by then. As usual, he started reminiscing about his past. About the time he was still a strong and proud Empire. When he was still America's father. They were so happy together. Why did the brat have to ruin their quiet family life by wanting to be independent. He sacrificed so much to raise him.

"I sacrificed so much!" He screamed while lunging at an unsuspecting chair and tried to strangle it. "Alfred, why did you do this? To me? To ME?"

The door opened, revealing an American who was laughing obnoxiously. Then he saw England and started bawling. Then he stopped and approached the fallen man who was now snuggling the chair that he had named Alfred. He was apologizing to it.

"Hey dude! Whatcha doin? Oh, hey Alfred!" He said the last part to the chair. They had met before in a similar situation.

"Why did you leave me, hic," the man sounded as drunk as he acted. "Cruel, cruel world! I can't stop hic-ing! England turned away from the chair and noticed that Alfred-the-human/nation person was there. No! Alfred can't see me like this. He has seen me down before...I cannot let it happen again, the drunken dude thought.

Ashamed of his behaviour, England tried, and I mean tried, running off but fell on the ground, unconscious. He had tripped over Alfred-the-chair. Canada, who was unnoticed again eh, was relieved that England was no longer sitting on him and had stopped crying. I'm so tired of being invisible all the time. Or mistaken as Alfred. It's the worst when England is drunk and starts yelling at me for abandoning him with "that horrible half-french bastard". All I ever wanted was his love, thought Canada as he watched Alfred put a hamburger on Arthur's forehead.

"I need Francis! He's the only one who can make me feel loved," exclaimed Canada as he ran towards the exit, crying.

Alfred's Canadar (that's Canada + radar for dummies) started acting up at his brother's words.

"Mattie! Wait! He's gonna take advantage of your low self-esteem and current distress!"

"Like totally," added Poland, who was gossiping with Lithuania.

"I read it all in that Psychology for Dummies book you gave me for X-mas so I could read the atmosphere better." Continued the American. "And I still haven't found that book! Wait up!" Alfred ran after his brother, forgetting about the unconscious England and stepping on him as he made his way out.

"The git didn't say sorry! What an ungrateful twat!" Exclaimed the now conscious Arthur.

Prussia was staring at Francis, confused.

"Why did you want me wear those glasses anyway?"

To anyone who is still confused by what is going on, they just had sex. Francis, for some reason, decided that Gilbert would look even hotter with rounded glasses. It had no relation with the fact that he had seen his friend drinking a full bottle of maple syrup a few seconds before the act.

France had felt the need to jump on his friend and started undressing him in the middle of the pet shop. Spain had dragged them there earlier to show them some nice (and mean) turtles.

"They kind of look like Matthew's glasses," said a perplexed albino man, still thinking about the spectacles.

"I don't know what you mean," dryly said the Frenchman before snatching back the glasses.

"Well, the awesome me has to leave. I have a drinking contest with my unawesome bro. I hope you enjoyed my five meters."

"Oui-oui, aurevoir." France waved his friend away. Gilbert then left, taking Antonio (he was still there, distracted by the cute little turtles; he even named one Romano) with him. He was a little bitter at the fact that he was so easily disposed of.

He sighed when he realized that, once again, he was alone and returned to his hotel room. He didn't cry (he wasn't Alfred) but he took a glass of red wine and he didn't enjoy it. It was a sure sign of his imminent depression.

"There iz zis void inside mee zat I have to fill and zese mindless fucks do not make mee feel complete or quench my desire pour de l'attachement émotionnel," he said to no one in particular.

It was then that a sweaty Canada jumped right through the window, just like his papa taught him to. The best thing was that he was crying.